


Bohemian Carol

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Dark, F/M, Future Fic, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-01-03
Updated: 2006-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In December 2018, Logan receives a visit from an old flame who needs help on a case that he can’t refuse. And, working together once more, Veronica and Logan must finally face everything between them that Veronica has been trying to avoid since she left him all those years ago… Abandoned WIP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic, together with ["Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/196229"), are two alternate versions of the same future, this one dark and the other one light. Both fics, however, are entirely self-contained.

“I need your help.”

She glanced down nervously at her hands, folded demurely over her purse, and bit her lip. It had been years since they’d last seen each other, and time had been particularly cruel in this case. Although, really, it was inevitable. She had had the petite, elfin sort of beauty that made her seem almost childlike in her youth until, one day, age suddenly hit, and she had that blonde, washed-out, exhausted look that so many with her type developed. Her mother had looked that way too, he remembered.

Logan nodded for her to take the seat across from him. “ _Mrs._ Kane,” he agreed carefully, while inwardly cursing at himself for the snideness of the words. It seemed that, no matter how he tried, some bitternesses didn’t fade.

She glanced up at him, a sudden sharpness and intelligence in those blue eyes that not even time could erase, but sat nonetheless. “Mr. Lester,” she retorted just as smoothly.

“Touché,” he smiled, tapping the nameplate on his desk that did, indeed, boast the change of surname he’d taken with joyous enthusiasm to banish the curse of the Echolls legacy. “Now, what could you _possibly_ need from me that your husband’s lawyers couldn’t provide in spades?” He leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head.

Not so surprisingly, she didn’t take the bait. She’d stopped their word games after breaking up with him all those years ago, almost as if even remembering their favorite pastime was distasteful to her. But this time the silence seemed deeper, darker, and suddenly Logan got that feeling that something was very wrong.

“Veronica?” he asked, suddenly concerned. “What’s happened?”

She sighed, took a deep breath, and sighed again. “I didn’t know who else to come to…” she began hesitantly.

He nodded cautiously, overwhelmingly curious and just a little bit afraid that she’d run out on him. Again. And, damn his schadenfreude, but if there was trouble in paradise, he wanted to be the first to bask in it. So much for all that professionalism he prided himself on.

“I…may need to make legal proceedings against my husband,” she began hesitantly, answering his less than sincere question from earlier. “Which means…”

“No Kane Company lawyers,” he agreed. “If you’re looking for a good divorce attorney, I can hook you up with a friend of—”

“No,” she corrected him, and he was almost disappointed. “I…”

He nodded for her to go on. Even after all this time, it still felt _wrong_ to see her this subdued. But, in her case, it seemed that that fiery passion that had burned so brightly their junior year _had_ just been a fluke. He’d waited years to see his Veronica spark to life again, but she never had. _All an illusion…_ But it had been such a breathtaking illusion that he still had difficulty at times believing that it hadn’t been real.

She gulped, and Stephanie entered with a tray and coffee, right on cue. There were times the secretaries in the DA’s office were well-nigh scary in their abilities to predict when they’d be needed, and Stephanie was the top of the heap. Logan offered her a grateful smile when she handed him his own mug. She just nodded pleasantly, unobtrusively, and left them alone once more. For one brief moment, before the door shut again, the bustle of office work could be heard outside, but then his door shut with a click, and it was just the two of them again, almost as if the door were a portal to the past in which they were now trapped once again.

Veronica sipped at her coffee quietly, and it seemed to fuel her to speak. Her eyes met his with sudden purpose, and she spoke clearly, definitively. “Someone’s hitting Michael.” A pause. “And I think it may be my husband.”

He froze for a moment in complete shock. If there was one thing Veronica had always been good at, it had been getting under his skin, overturning his world with nothing but a look or a glance. But this… “What?” he demanded in disbelief.

She ran fingers nervously through shoulder-length hair. “It sounds ridiculous, I know. But… I think Duncan’s hurting our son.” Her eyes met his again, letting him know that she was dead serious.

He paused, brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed at his eye, as if trying to fight off a headache. “What makes you think this?” he finally asked.

Veronica took a deep breath and began. “It all started six months ago, when—”

“Duncan began his senate campaign?” he offered, making the connection himself.

She nodded. “I wasn’t getting much time to myself, so I left him home with the kids one night. And when I woke Michael up in the morning, he had a black eye. I just…” She sighed. “I assumed he’d been fighting.”

“What did he say?”

“That he fell down,” Veronica grimaced. “I just thought that he didn’t want to get in trouble and…”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed. “Trust me, I know.”

It was a low blow, and he knew it. But, then, Veronica had to have known what it would do to him for her to bring this to him, right? Sure, it was his job to prosecute child-abusers to the fullest – and cruelest – extent of the law he could manage. But this was…close. Too close. Close enough to make him remember his own childhood, his own…

“It hasn’t just been the one time,” Veronica continued, ignoring – or unaware of – his own inner thoughts. “There have been bruises, black-eyes, burns…”

“Have you kept the hospital records?” he asked pointedly, mind back on track. Just another case. Although, fuck, why couldn’t she just go to the police like everyone else? Oh right. Because she was an old ‘friend’.

She made a face, and for that moment she looked _fierce_ , frightening despise her diminutive stature. “It’s never been severe enough for the hospital. Yet.”

“No broken bones?”

She shook her head. “Like I said, it’s…careful.”

“Careful doesn’t last.” And Logan could’ve been speaking merely from his experience as a prosecutor, from seeing hundreds of cases of this nature in court. But Veronica didn’t look like she bought that any more than he did.

“That’s why I need to know now,” she insisted. “And, if I’m right…” She gulped. “If it is Duncan… I need to get them away from him.” Her eyes were clear, resolved, determined, as she looked at him. For one moment of clarity, he thought he saw the woman he’d once thought she was, the woman he’d…

“You’ve never caught Duncan in the act?” Crisp, precise questions. Meticulous attention to detail. Work, and nothing more. It was the only way to stay sane, really.

“No. It never happens when I’m around.”

“Michael’s never said anything to you?”

“No.”

He hesitated, took a deep breath, “What about Lilly?”

“Lilly’s fine,” she insisted quickly. “But, then, she’s so much younger and…”

“Less trouble?” he offered.

She bit her lip and nodded.

Logan considered her for a moment, thinking over everything. “This is going to sound weird, but…have you considered hiring a private investigator?” he finally asked.

Veronica bit her lip. Whether to keep from laughing or crying was beyond him. “I need someone I can trust. Someone who won’t…judge.”

“And you think I won’t?” He didn’t even try to keep the incredulity out of his voice. Because, fuck, there was nothing he’d like better than to finally beat Kane, hit him where it hurt…

“I know you won’t,” Veronica said confidently, her shoulders squared and ready to face him.

And damn if she wasn’t right. He hated her in that moment, hated her that she could know him well enough to realize that this was the one thing that he could never take pleasure in. Hated her also that she knew him so little that she would force this onto him, this one thing that he could never refuse her no matter how much he wanted to. Or maybe she understood, and she just didn’t care what this would do to him. And, if that was the case, he hated her even more. It was consistent, though. She’d always put Saint Duncan first, even back when she’d been with him…

“Will you help me?” Her voice sounded sharp, superior, more than a little condescending. Like she was lowering herself just to talk to him.

He didn’t consider the question worth answering. She wouldn’t have come to him if she didn’t already know the answer. “This really isn’t my job,” he pointed out in one last vain effort. “The cops or an investigator are better able to handle—”

“No one else can find out about this,” she insisted stiffly, looking almost frightened.

“Always a yellow journalist right around the corner,” he snarked.

She glared at him, and it was strangely reassuring to see the anger in her eyes; at least that was emotion. “I won’t ruin Duncan’s career over this.”

“Over your son?” he countered harshly.

She froze for a moment. “Duncan can’t be doing this…” she finally whispered softly.

Unfortunately, he agreed with her. As much as he would _love_ to believe Duncan Kane guilty of the worst atrocities known to mankind, his old friend had always been too much of a goody two-shoes for any of it to be believable. The Duncan he knew wouldn’t hit his kid. Fuck with his head until he’d reprogrammed the kid into his warped little Stepford world? Yes. But not physical violence, not with Duncan. Unless…

“How has _your husband_ ,” he bit out more snidely than he would have liked, given the Herculean effort he was putting into not letting her faze him, “been doing with his medication?”

She smiled and nodded at that. Always so easy to believe that anything Duncan did wasn’t really his fault. Easier still to believe that Logan would commit every dastardly deed that she thought below Duncan. And, damn, but it seemed his bitterness was leaking out yet again. He knew there was a reason he avoided her like the plague…

“He still has… _incidents_.” Such a polite, non-judgmental term. Perfect for Duncan, really. He should give her a fucking award for apropos vocabulary choices. “But not often. And not violent.” Her lips shut with a bit of a gasp on the last word.

He just raised his eyebrows.

“Not usually violent,” she quickly clarified under his look. And he could remember in the good old days when it would take more than a suspicious look to pull Veronica out of her fake story of the week.

“Did you ever think of, I don’t know…say, _asking_ him about this?” Hey, if he couldn’t be indifferent, at least he could be pleasantly disdainful.

He swore she actually sniffed at him in distaste. Oh, this was just priceless. “What am I supposed to say?” she snapped. “‘Good evening, honey. Oh, by the way, did you smack our son upside the head while having an epileptic fit?’”

His smile was anything but amused. She really could be a grand bitch when she wanted. “It seems a lot easier than tracking down some guy you tortured back in high-school and manipulating him into doing your bidding.”

For one moment she just gaped. Once upon a time, her snappy comebacks had even been faster than her shock. “ _I_ tortured _you_?” she finally demanded in disbelief.

“Nice how you don’t even bother to deny the manipulation part,” he leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “I appreciate honesty,” he cut her off when she made to protest. “And, yes, it was torture. Watching the two of you in your fairytale little world.”

Eyes narrowed, she rose abruptly from her seat. “I can see that this was a mistake. I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”

“This is just dawning on you now?” he retorted cheerfully.

She spun on her heel and headed for the door. He waited until she’d reached the knob before he stopped her. Some part of him just never would stop loving the melodrama. Actor’s genes, he supposed.

“I’ll help you.”

She took a deep breath, composing herself.

“But you’ve got to understand, this isn’t what I do. Bring me the evidence, and I’ll nail the bastard any way you like. Collecting the evidence?”

“That was my specialty,” she breathed. The unspoken final _“once”_ settled uncomfortably between them.

“Do you still have any cameras?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Although I seem to recall that being your father’s specialty.”

She still knew how to dig her claws in. Fortunately, he knew how to dig deeper. “My father’s, not mine. I would’ve sworn you’d already solved that case.”

“Of course. I forgot.” Smooth, sleek, professional. That was a Veronica he didn’t know, one who had been cultured, primed, and prompted for the role of a politician’s wife.

“I can talk to a friend of mine,” he brushed over her coldness. “We’ll need to get surveillance.”

“The money shot…” She sounded wistful, like she was remembering some long-ago happy past.

“Of course, this whole thing would be easier if you’d just call Child Services.” He raised his eyebrows. He could have patted himself on the back for being a good little boy and touting the law-enforcement line.

“I won’t embarrass my husband.”

Oh now, that was an interesting way of putting it. “And if we catch him in the act?”

“ _When_ ,” she emphasized with such certainly that her earlier assertion of Duncan’s guilt almost seemed like a lifetime ago, “we exonerate him, it won’t be an issue.” Apparently Duncan had done a good job teaching her how to rewrite reality to fit whatever worldview she wanted.

“Veronica…” he warned.

She seemed startled by the use of her given name. She nodded, gulped, and looked a little pale. “I won’t let him – _anyone_ – hurt our children.” In this, at least, she was one-hundred percent confident.

It was almost reassuring to see that she finally cared about someone more than her sweet sixteen crush. “I’ll need your help.”

“When will you have the equipment?”

“Thursday?”

She nodded. “Don’t call me; I’ll call you.” And then she was gone, and the rush of the office came back to him, and he realized that he already had a fucking life and shouldn’t be chasing around after some ghost of a life that had never even been real.

She’d accused him once, long ago, of being a masochist. He’d thought he’d wiped his system clean of any such impulse, buried himself in a new life, a job that gave him some of the power back he’d lost as a child. Revenge was sweet, even the indirect sort. And it should have hardened him, made him turn her away. But, damn, she’d always known how to get to him, even back then. Knew how to turn the knife in his chest.

Maybe with Veronica Mars, he was a masochist still. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time…


	2. Chapter 2

“This better not be for some Girl’s Gone Wild exposé. Because I prefer to be left out of the Playboy lifestyle, thank you very much.”

He offered Cynthia a mischievous grin, one she informed him time and time again wasn’t charming in the slightest. “Your code of ethics have anything against deadbeat dads? And I mean the ‘beat’ in the most literal sense.”

“ _Everything_ ,” she agreed fervently, and for a moment he thought he saw a softness in the way she looked at him. But then the sarcastic veneer was back, and she held out the camera for him in an assertive gesture. “Don’t break it. MacKenzie Security doesn’t have an unlimited budget. Unlike certain Most Eligible Bachelors I know.”

He let out a derisive snort at that. The title had been handed to him at their tenth high-school reunion a few years back. He hadn’t even realized before then that they’d gone to the same school, back in the day. She always had great fun telling him that she’d gone by ‘Mac’, had had a different color hair every month, and had been the school’s covert hacking genius. He still wasn’t quite sure if he believed her. The great thing about Cynthia was that she walked the same line of sardonic cynicism he did, although occasionally it made it hard to tell whether she was exaggerating or not.

“So, you’re really not going to tell me what this is for?” she sounded hopelessly curious. Hopeless curiosity was one of her more endearing traits. The security business suited her well, in that. No one ever bothered to consider the eye behind the camera when they wired their houses down to the last nook and cranny. Luckily for them all, Cynthia was disinclined to blackmail. She explained that it was too stressful, especially when she had to work on a daily basis with lawyers who would nail her for it. His obligatory response that he’d more than happily nail her even without a criminal record had only had her rolling her eyes all the more and smiling that mischievous smile. He’d known even before he’d teased her that she was too smart to take him up on that offer…

“Actually, it’s for my shower. I hope you remembered to send a signal back to your bedroom.” So, of course, he couldn’t stop picking at it.

“Smart-assed lawyers washing away their hangovers with cold water?” she countered skeptically. “I think I’ll stick with Skinemax.”

“Oh, but I’m free, baby,” he teased.

She snorted. “You mean you’re cheap.”

He laughed at that, but bitterly. Frankly, she reminded him a bit too much of a certain mouthy blonde he’d loved to spar with back in the day. But time and shattered dreams had hardened him, until now… Well, he wasn’t quite sure what exactly he had changed into now, but he certainly wasn’t the boy he’d once been.

Still, the banter was appreciated. It was probably why he dropped by at every available opportunity when any office needed security matters handled. Logan Lester wouldn’t have really said that he had friends, but Cynthia was one of the closest things out there. “It’s a personal matter,” he offered softly.

And the teasing ended just like that. A quick run-over of the set-up and retrieving signals, and all that was left between them was a “good luck” and a sad smile. Anything else she might have said was lost to the ringing of his cell.

“Tonight. Duncan will be out. Eight. And don’t you _dare_ come early.” Veronica’s voice was sharp, borderline harsh, like there was nothing in the world more odious than having to ring his number. She hung up before he could even get his wisecrack out.

“Duty calls,” he offered to Cynthia, brandishing his phone before him with no real pleasure.

“Right,” she smiled tightly and shut the briefcase with a snap. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” he agreed, sweeping up the case in a grand gesture. It felt heavier than it should, weighing him down with far too many bad memories. There was a part of him right then that wished he was strong enough to just let go. Some day it all had to end, the past had to fade to nothing and stop _hurting_ so much. But it seemed like today wasn’t the day. Tomorrow, he hoped.

Cynthia didn’t say a thing as he left her office. She never did. He was glad, in a way.

***

The Kane house was, scarily enough, _the Kane house_. The same damn place Jake and Celeste had bought all those years ago. The place where Lilly’s blood had soaked into the cement by the pool. God, how fucking morbid were Duncan and Veronica, anyway?

Logan approached the back door, feeling creepily like he was caught in the past. Groundhog Day, except trapped in high school. Now, _there_ was a scary thought…

The garage light was off, although the door had been left open for him to park in. Heaven forbid the neighbors see a mysterious car parked in the Kanes’ driveway while the Missus was home alone. Except, wait, none of the neighbors could even see the driveway from outside the gates, now could they?

He knocked on the back door and tapped his foot impatiently against the brickwork.

Finally, the door opened and Veronica, looking prim and proper as ever, nodded to him. “Good. You’re on time.”

“Yeah, if I didn’t make it in ten minutes, the pizza was free,” Logan retorted blithely, stepping into a house he never thought he’d revisit.

“Did you get the stuff?”

“We’re not dealing in crack-cocaine here.” He rolled his eyes and set the case down on the table of the servants’ kitchen.

Veronica’s mouth tightened, but she didn’t retort. Instead, she glanced at the security equipment. “We should set up one in the children’s hall, and the other in Duncan’s study. He keeps the kids with him in there sometimes.”

“Seems logical enough,” he agreed and followed her through the all-too-familiar hallways. Most of the lights were dim, and it gave him the creeps. He half-wondered if Lilly’s ghost was running her fingers up and down his spine and laughing at him the whole while. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but the _offness_ of this situation made him feel less sure of his convictions than usual…

The first stop was the study. That one was easy. The camera fit neatly into the back of the television cabinet Duncan had in one corner of the room. The clear glass that kept dust out of the cabinet did even more to obscure the camera that its small size did.

All throughout this procedure Veronica watched him silently. It was starting to make him nervous, like he was some sort of bug under a microscope. Or maybe she was just checking out his fine ass. He seriously doubted it, though. Mrs. Kane didn’t seem like the type to indulge in, well… _anything_.

“All done,” he announced.

She just nodded and led him down another hall, shoulders tensed.

“Are we doing this whole investigation in mime?” he retorted as the silence just dragged on.

“Michael and Lilly are both asleep,” Veronica explained in a whisper, seemingly nonplussed by his caustic remarks. “That’s Michael’s room.” She gestured toward the closed door of what had been Lilly the Elder’s old room. And, Christ, wasn’t naming their daughter after Duncan’s murdered sister bad enough? Did they just need that extra thrill of creepiness that came from housing their son in a dead girl’s room?

Veronica walked past that door and opened the next one over. This one was the playroom and had been since Lilly #1 and Duncan had been kids. Last time Logan had been there, it had featured a wide-screen television, an endless supply of video games, and a pool table. Now, it held a playpen with stuffed animals in one corner, and a LEGO World set and vast collection of toy cars on the other. A new generation, starting all over again. The human race perpetuates itself. Just fucking great…

“We don’t let them out of this hall unsupervised,” Veronica explained.

“Ah, the Celeste Kane school of parenting…”

She glared at him. “It’s more convenient this way. Besides, I take them with me all the time.”

Logan could almost believe that. He doubted Veronica, despite her many flaws, could possibly be as cold to her own children as Celeste had been. Then again, Duncan always _had_ been a bit of a momma’s boy. Not that he could throw stones, really.

“You don’t think bugging your own kids’ rooms is kind of creepy?” he wondered. Hell, ‘creepy’ was obviously the theme of the evening; he had to say it out loud at least _once_.

Veronica bit her lip. The thought had, of course, occurred to her a dozen times over the past week. “No one will see the footage but me,” she insisted. “And I’ll destroy whatever we don’t need as soon as I’m done with it.”

Logan gave her a skeptical look. “Then why do you even need me? I have better things to do with my evenings than run around at your beck and call.”

 _Why do I need him?_ It was a good question, and one she wasn’t entirely sure she could answer. “I need someone on the outside,” she answered instead. “Someone who can be a witness, in case…”

“In case you’re losing your freaking mind?” he offered snidely. With a flourish he removed one of the mini-cams from the case and looked around the room carefully, searching for a place…

 _Yes. In case I’m finally losing my freaking mind…_ She’d felt the cracks all too often, of late. Of course, they’d first begun long ago, but they’d been thinner then, easier to ignore. Now they were deeper, moving closer and closer together, until… Well, not even she knew what would happen when she finally broke. The very thought terrified her, kept her up at nights. Luckily, Duncan was away most nights, and when he did make it home, he slept far too deeply to be awakened by her nervous shifting. “In case I have to take this to court,” she shot back, feeling an irrational flash of anger. She knew he hated her, but did he have to make _everything_ so damn difficult? Rhetorical question, of course.

“Yes, because we all know what a perfectly unbiased witness _I_ would be,” he pointed out before finally setting his eyes on the bookshelf in the corner.

She watched him kneel down before it and fumble slightly as he tried to fit it into place on the bottom of one of the shelves. It felt surreal, having him close like this after so long. After she’d gone away to school with Duncan at Stanford, she’d thought that would be the last she’d ever see of Logan Echolls. And, in a way, it was; he’d changed his name, his direction in life, everything but that smart mouth of his… Even she could see the difference in him. So much of the tension, the nervous energy of youth, was gone from him now. And, in its place, was that pervasive sadness that she’d seen slowly developing in his eyes since Lilly’s death. Or maybe even before that, and she just hadn’t noticed…

“Well?”

Veronica started at Logan’s sudden demand, embarrassed that she’d let herself drift so far into reverie that she’d almost completely forgotten where she was. “Are you done?” she demanded.

He rolled his eyes like she was intentionally trying to piss him off or something. “That’s what I just asked you: Am I done?”

Veronica frowned. “That’s all you’re doing?”

“Well, what do you _want_ me to do?” he retorted.

 _Help me._ The words were clear in her mind, so sharp and real, that she was sure she must have said them out loud. But, given Logan’s impatient expression, she knew she couldn’t have. Of course not. They were words she could never say. Once, maybe, but she’d long given up that right. Yet the need was still there. _Help Michael_ , in the end, was the best she could do.

“Mommy?”

And, what do you know? It seemed like she was still being saved by the bell. “Hey, sweetie,” she cooed softly, turning to see her son’s small form in the doorway, all chaotic blond hair and choo-choo pajamas.

Behind her, she could feel Logan stiffen. “I should go.”

Veronica took Michael up in her arms, and it was sad that she wasn’t going to be able to do this much longer if he kept growing at the rate he’d been growing. There were definite disadvantages to being ‘petite’ at times.

Michael, however, had turned his attention instantly to the stranger in their midst. “Who are you?” he asked Logan curiously. He never had been overly wary of, well, _anything_. Duncan had always wondered where that came from; Veronica wondered if he even _remembered_ his sister.

“Just an old, _dear_ friend of your mother’s,” Logan answered, catching Veronica’s eyes in what was clearly a challenge.

She just gulped, the sudden surreality of this situation taking hold of her. Accusations from so long ago…

“Did you bring me presents?” Michael demanded hopefully.

“Michael!” Veronica exclaimed in shock. “How many times have I told you that it’s rude to ask for presents?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael grumbled, looking more than a little bit put out.

Logan just chuckled.

Veronica was so surprised by his reaction that she looked up sharply, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Lilly used to pull that line on Celeste’s parents to guilt them into buying her the CDs Celeste had forbidden,” Logan clarified.

Veronica’s expression softened at that. “Lilly’s genes seem to have lived on. Although, oddly, not in her namesake.”

Logan nodded slowly. “Is he…?” The unspoken purpose of his visit passed between them. “Right now, I mean.”

“I don’t think so.” Veronica shook her head.

“You should take pictures of any bruises. Which I’m assuming you already know?”

Veronica could have slapped herself just then. Because she _had_ known that. That would have been her first step once, a reaction so ingrained into her that she certainly wouldn’t have needed Logan of all people to tell her how to do her job. Or, not her job anymore, now was it? Maybe that was how she’d forgotten. Here, caught up in Duncan’s campaigns and the children and everything else, that past seemed so far away, a distant memory obscured from her by thick fog. But something about Logan’s presence made that all seem sharp again, like that old quick-witted, investigate-it-yourself Veronica was slowly remembering how to exist.

“Did you bring a camera?” Veronica asked, admittedly embarrassed.

He had the grace not to poke at _this_ wound and held out a simple digital version. It was nothing like what she’d used in the old days, but it would do.

“Presents!” Michael squealed in excitement, getting one hand on the camera almost as soon as Veronica did.

A hint of an idea entered Veronica’s mind, and she smiled. “Yup,” she agreed. “And this is a _special_ camera. You know why?”

Michael shook his head vigorously, making his short blond hair fan out around his head in a way that made him look rather like an over-enthusiastic dandelion.

“If you ever get hurt,” Veronica explained, carrying Michael out into the hall, “we can just take a picture of the owie with the camera, and that will make it all better.”

“Really?” Michael asked, wide-eyed. “It’s a magic camera?”

Veronica nodded. “It’s a magic camera. Now, what do we say to Uncle Logan?”

Not surprisingly, Michael was quickly distracted from anything remotely resembling manners. “You’re Uncle Logan?” he asked, suddenly wide-eyed.

Inwardly, Veronica winced. She _knew_ there was a reason why she hadn’t wanted these two to meet.

“Apparently so,” Logan retorted, looking more than a little amused. She was willing to bet everything she had that he was laughing at her, rather than with her.

“Do something funny!” Michael clapped his hands together.

“Michael, honey, it’s time for bed and…” Even carrying her son bodily towards his room didn’t seem to be enough to stop this implosion…

“Funny?”

“Mommy always said you were the funny one,” Michael explained.

“Your mommy talks about me?” Logan asked, wicked victory shining in his eyes.

 _Damn. Double damn…_

Michael nodded. “Lilly was the fun one, and you were the funny one, and mommy was the nice one…”

Logan made a choking motion at the ‘nice’.

“…And daddy was the boring o—”

“I did _not_ say that!” Veronica snapped harshly.

Michael pouted. “Well, he never _did_ anything!”

“That’s your father you’re talking about,” she insisted sternly. “And why aren’t you in bed, anyway?”

“I had a nightmare and—”

“Fine. I’ll read to you. But back to bed.” God, she didn’t need her five-year-old son summarizing what a disaster her life was in a few short words. Especially not in front of Logan…

“Is it true that you and Uncle Eli once stuck a car through a flagpole?” Michael continued to chatter over Logan’s shoulder, as effusive as always.

Logan winked. “Well, technically, we stuck the flagpole through the car…”

“And that you and Aunt Lilly stole the license plates off of the sheriff’s car?”

“Lamb wasn’t sheriff yet when we did that…”

“And—”

“Bed!” Veronica cut him off sternly enough that he finally shut his mouth. “And what do you say to Uncle Logan for the camera?” she demanded again.

Michael looked sheepish, like he’d completely forgotten. “Thank you, Uncle Logan,” he chimed dolefully.

“No problem, kiddo.”

Logan waited out in the hallway while she put Michael back to bed. And, for that, she was grateful. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ seemed to be quite the truism when it came to her son. Duncan thought he was ADD; Veronica didn’t really see any problem with a little bit of, well… _life_ in this house. Luckily, for the most part, Duncan left the children entirely in her care. And it seemed that, if nothing else, he had learned from his childhood maybe not to believe Celeste every time she tried to push pills on the kids. Thank heaven for small miracles…

With a promise that she’d be right back, she left Michael and, with a deep breath, stepped back out into the hallway. “Sorry about that,” she said softly, not quite able to meet Logan’s eyes.

“Not a problem,” he assured her before adding: “Cute kid. He looks just like you.”

“Yeah, except he’s already practically taller than me.” It was a ridiculous exaggeration, but it got a chuckle, a moment of softening…

And then, of course, reality reasserted itself. “Here are the receiver channels. They should hook directly into your computer. I’ve been informed that they can each hold forty-eight hours of data before you have to download and clear the save file…”

“But, in real life, I should probably switch them daily.” She took the two devices from him and, for a moment, their fingers brushed, and she was lost in past memories. She’d forgotten how big his hands were, the quick motions of nimble and dexterous fingers, the way his touch could…

Shaking her head abruptly, she snapped out of it.

He looked at her, a slightly puzzled expression on his face.

“What else?” It took great effort, but she pulled herself back together and led him back to the back door. _Spine straight, hands composed neatly in front of her, expression pleasant but neutral, voice assertive but human_ , everything a senator’s wife needed to know…

“A list of people who were in Michael’s vicinity when the bruises appeared would be infinitely helpful.”

“You can do background checks?”

“I’m a DA,” he retorted like that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard.

“Right. Of course. I’ll fax you that immediately.”

“Right. Fax me.” He shrugged. “And, after that, I don’t know what else you need me to do…”

She gulped, and slowly the panic that had led to her approaching him in the first place began to fill her again, a horror so deep and instinctual that she couldn’t even put a name to it… “I’ll contact you if I need anything else,” she said, voice sounding cold and alien to her, like she was trapped deep within this shell that ran her life for her, locked away, trapped…

“Yeah, I thought a ‘thank you’ was probably beyond you,” he snapped, opened the door, and disappeared out into the night.

She slumped back against the counter, heard the sound of his car starting and then fading off into the distance, and finally seemed to recover herself enough to whisper “thank you” to the closed door.


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you have for me?” Veronica slammed the car door behind her and sat uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat, hidden from the world by her dark sunglasses and the Navajo-patterned silk scarf she’d wrapped around her hair. She probably looked ridiculous, especially in the growing twilight, but all that mattered was that, if any of Duncan’s arriving supporters spotted her, they wouldn’t recognize her.

“You have, at last count, your husband, three regular staffers, nine assistants to the staffers, and five servants running around your house at all hours of the day.” Logan read over the list she’d given him. Your usual suspects…

“Thanks for repeating what I already know,” she snapped.

He just shook his head. “You must have to bake a lot of chocolate-chip cookies to be June Cleaver to them all…”

“And you must give yourself quite a pep-talk every morning to be this offensive: ‘I’m mean enough! I’m rude enough! And, gosh darn it, people _hate_ me!’” she snapped before she could stop herself.

He shot her a surprised look, before giving her the most infuriating grin she’d ever seen. “Knew you still had it in you, Mars,” he teased.

“That’s not my name,” she shot right back, snatching the folder from his lap to look over it herself. If he wasn’t going to respect that she had somewhere else to be, fuck like she was going to offer him any courtesy in exchange.

He grunted with annoyance, whether at her words or actions, she had no clue. It was an undignified enough response that she didn’t bother replying.

“Duncan has epilepsy.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t imagine where I’d be without your brilliant research skills…”

“I just put in the request for background checks,” he bit back. “I didn’t _personally_ edit the reports to your exacting specifications.”

She looked up at him in shock. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone!”

“I _didn’t_ tell anyone,” he countered. “And what did you expect me to do? I’ve got a job, you know. The funny thing about work is that they actually make you _work_.”

“Terry Enbom was arrested for pill popping?” Veronica blinked in surprise. “And, if you hate work so much, there’s always daddy’s trust fund.”

“I _like_ my work.” He glared at her. “And I hate my dad. And those were sedatives, so not likely to induce violent fits. Plus, let’s just remind ourselves here: Which one of us is the trophy wife who sits on her ass all day long?”

She bit her lip to hold in the instinctive snide remark. “I do a lot of charity work,” she insisted.

“And here I thought that was Celeste’s PR job…”

“We both do it,” Veronica countered icily, although she couldn’t help but agree with him. Duncan had just never understood her complaint that _she_ was supposed to be his wife, not mommy dearest. But, no, she was just being silly, and Celeste was just ‘helping out’ by intruding into their lives every chance she got…

“That one’s interesting.” Logan pointed to Anne Crawford’s file.

“Her cousin was taken into child services…” she commented thoughtfully.

He nodded. “Nasty case. The Hallowell thing a few years back?”

“I remember… It was all over the news. That was Anne’s uncle?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t do a background check on Duncan’s own campaign manager?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“She’s a friend of the family!” Veronica insisted.

“Yeah. As I recall, my dad was a ‘friend of the family’, as well,” he shot back bitterly. “But, hey, at least your babysitter was clean. After all the rest, I was actually surprised that Kyla didn’t turn out to be a baby-eater.”

Her lips pressed together in a thin, angry line. “Well, I can certainly see why you went into law. It’s the one place on earth where they’ll actually reward you for being a loud-mouthed jerk.”

He sighed. “It’s so nice to see that we’ve matured so much over the years…”

“You always did bring out the worst in me,” she grumbled under her breath. But, even as she said it, a little wriggle of doubt entered her mind. Because they were arguing and being _mean_ , but it was strangely… _enjoyable_. A battle of wits like she hadn’t had in years, unless children during their terrible twos counted. But this was different: Deep, cutting…

 _Satisfying…_

She cast aside that thought immediately. She wasn’t like that, dammit. She was a _good_ person, and she refused to take pleasure from…

“I know blissful ignorance is your and Duncan’s thing,” Logan sighed, “but you really should keep a closer eye on the people you let into your home.”

The thought was gone with another burst of anger. “Serafina is an _excellent_ cook,” she insisted, reaching the file he must be referring to. “And the children love her.”

“Hey,” he threw up his hands defensively, “I’m just pointing out what’s in the file.”

Veronica’s brow furrowed. He actually did have a point. Serafina _was_ an excellent cook, but it was somewhat incongruous to think of the jolly woman who bustled about their kitchen as an ex-stripper, and one with an assault charge at that.

She let out a long sigh, looking at the possibilities and suspects that piled up before her. “What do you think I should do?” she finally asked softly.

“Take the kids and run.” His eyes were dark and very serious. It was probably the straightest, _truest_ answer he’d ever given her.

She gulped. “That’s not really an option…”

He nodded slowly, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes, and it made her stomach clench. Somehow she just _knew_ then that when he’d answered her question, he’d told her what _he_ would have wanted, all those years ago… And, lucky her, she got to let him down just like his mom had.

“It could be anyone, really,” he finally answered slowly. “There’s no way of knowing unless…”

“Michael gets hurt again.” Hands shaking, she gave the files back to him. Anything to distract herself from the sensation of things falling apart, crumbling from within…

Logan took a deep breath and let it out as a blow of warm air against the window. The crispness of evening was just enough that the glass fogged over for a moment before becoming crystal clear once more. “You should try to talk to him.”

“I _have_. He keeps saying he fell.”

“Did you try tricking him?”

“First thing,” she agreed ruefully.

He gave her a half-smile at that, his eyes warm and rich with dark humor.

She shook her head slightly and looked down at her hands in her lap. She really didn’t need him to look like that just then. Especially not when he was living evidence of what could happen to Michael. “I can watch him…”

“And hope the problem just goes away.” He leaned back in the car seat, looking up through the windshield, staring at nothing.

“I don’t know what else to do,” she admitted softly. The impact of those words hit her just as harshly now as when she’d first realized them. There was a time, long ago, when she’d felt like she _always_ knew what to do. She didn’t like this change, this feeling of _helplessness_ that came from doing far too little for far too long.

He seemed to consider her words for long moments, and she took the opportunity to study him. The light was almost blue now, deepening into evening, and it made his skin look pale and ethereal. Otherworldly and hauntingly beautiful. She could remember just then the taste of that tender skin along his throat, the way his body tensed and harsh gasps of air pressed past his lips when she kissed him right…

“Find the bastard.”

…there.

His dry words broke the spell around her, and suddenly she was Veronica Kane once more, and if she’d ever thought she’d be anyone else, those memories were buried deep down inside so that they had faded to almost nothing.

“I fully intend to,” she agreed, voice hard, a strange mix of the senator’s wife and the angry fury. A pause. “They’re all there tonight. At Duncan’s fundraiser.”

Thousands of moments, chances, risks… All flitting through her fingers, lost instances that could scar her children for life. The thought was so horrifying that she couldn’t even bear to contemplate it.

“You’d better go then,” he said calmly, seemingly at peace with the world.

With a nod, she opened the car door and stepped back out into the night. Her neighborhood, her home, her life. It looked so stark and barren in the evening light, the colors and opulence faded to nothing. She stepped across the street and paused when the headlights of Logan’s car flicked on, basking the street in a pale yellow glow, before he pulled away from the curb and was gone.

For a moment she stood outside the iron gates to her home, watching the empty road, and then with a sigh she headed for the sounds of revelry she could just barely make out from inside the house…

***

All political functions, in the end, were exactly the same. Veronica smiled brightly, raised her champagne glass with every turn, and said “thank you” so often the words had become numb and meaningless.

Across the room, Duncan and John Enbom and few of the other wealthier, life-time contributors were gathered together, laughing in a delighted – but thoroughly decorous – way. Veronica, of course, was left with the wives and girlfriends and mothers. All the ones who weren’t ‘in’ politics. In many ways, it really was still an all-boys club.

At first, Veronica had made an effort to bridge the divide. And then, somewhere along the way, she’d just stopped caring. It was one thing to stand up for herself and her gender; it was another to force herself to tolerate hordes of rich men patting themselves on their backs for how superior they were. There were times when she wondered how Duncan could stand it. And, more recently, there were also times when she wondered whether, despite Duncan’s carefully neutral and seemingly-caring façade, he was really just like all the rest of them, after all.

“We need more canapés.”

Celeste’s voice drifted to Veronica from the other end of the refreshment table, and she sighed as she watched her mother-in-law matter-of-factly tend to the hundreds of minute details that made a thoroughly frivolous event like this come off perfectly. It just reminded her all the more that, while she could handle everything this life threw at her, it really wasn’t enjoyable to her in the slightest.

She downed the rest of her champagne glass with a deep gulp.

“That’s your third?”

Veronica stiffened. Because for a moment she’d believed herself away from critical eyes with Celeste’s attention focused elsewhere. But, of course, everyone was _always_ watching. And Anne’s job was to make sure that everyone liked what they saw. “It’ll be my last for the evening,” she offered with a tight-lipped smile, handing her empty glass to one of the passing servers.

Anne nodded, glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose as she typed away at that damn palm organizer that seemed to be glued to her hand. “Your face is flushed,” she offered. “Perhaps you should go check on Michael and Lilly.”

Veronica felt the well-deserved sharp remark on the tip of her tongue, but bit it back. After all, Anne was merely doing her job. Veronica _did_ have a history of alcoholism in her family, and Duncan certainly didn’t need a lush for a wife if he wanted to make a play for the White House some day. And somewhere along the line, Veronica had discovered that all the ‘friends’ she had were more concerned about whether or not she was an embarrassment than they cared about _her_.

She looked to Duncan almost instinctively, because heaven knew he was the only one who ever lent her any leniency, but he was far away, caught up in some story of Senator Watkins’. And the fact that Watkins’ daughter Denise was hanging on every word, smiling just a bit _too_ coyly, made Veronica want to flee all the more.

Thankfully, Anne could be sicced on other offenders as well. Anne’s eyes narrowed at the signs of obvious flirtation, and she straightened herself for another intervention. “Excuse me,” she offered Veronica an ever-polite smile as she made a bee-line for Denise.

Veronica couldn’t help but snicker to herself. And then immediately regretted doing so. She really shouldn’t be laughing at…

 _Hell, yes, I should be laughing. Martha Stewart, Jr., just met her match in whatever rod is rammed permanently up Anne’s ass. How is that not hysterical?_ That little voice in the back of her head that reminded her too much of her long-dead best-friend surfaced at the most random times, really. Although it seemed to be doing so more often lately…

The altercation across the room ended with Anne, smile so stiff it seemed to be straining the over-tight bun she wore at the back of her head, grabbing Denise ‘companionably’ by the arm and leading her forcibly over to where Terry Enbom looked to be getting thoroughly sloshed. Veronica hoped that John’s wife had given up the sleeping pills for this event, because mixing poisons never worked well.

She eyed the champagne, caught Celeste eying her in response, and decided that maybe Anne had had a good idea after all. Even at their worst, her children were saints compared to everything else she had to deal with. There were times when she got the strange feeling that they were all caught in an elaborate dance, circling around Duncan and pleading desperately for even a moment of attention or affection. It wasn’t a pleasant image.

She retreated from the festivities with a nod in Celeste’s direction; hell, Celeste wanted her gone in the first place, so this was just the easiest of all options. She could still remember the tightness in the wicked witch’s face when she’d first learned that Veronica was pregnant. An unspoken horror that, strangely, Veronica had felt sympathy with at the time…

The sounds of the affluent having not very much fun at all faded into the background as she sought out the inner sanctuary of their home. Her children, always, were the brightest spot in her life, the only thing that kept her from losing it.

And, ironically, the very thing that forced her to stay…

 _“Take the kids and run.”_

Logan’s words from earlier haunted her. She entered the playroom and gave Kyla the rest of the night off, to effusive gratitude. Michael was smashing two cars together loudly, complete with running commentary that led her to believe that one day he’d cheerfully and joyfully total their car while leading the interstate police on a merry chase. In complete contrast, Lilly had fallen asleep, her arms wrapped around the oversized stuffed teddy bear that Duncan had given her for her birthday.

“I can put Lilly to bed,” Kyla offered, and Veronica gave her a grateful smile. “She’s such an angel…”

It was a sentiment Veronica had heard all too often. And, really, Lilly _was_ a perfect little angel. She was calm, well-mannered, and doted upon every adult who paid her attention. Duncan called her “my little girl,” and Veronica couldn’t help but agree. There was never any doubt who Lilly’s father had been…

Kyla lifted Lilly up her arms, her red hair a shocking contrast to Lilly’s dark locks. When Lilly had been born, her hair had been the same color as Michael’s – and her namesake’s – but it had darkened over time. Duncan’s daughter in every way…

Veronica pressed a kiss to Lilly’s brow and let Kyla take her back to her room. All the while, Michael ignored Lilly’s natural lovability. No one would _ever_ accuse him of being an angel. The sheer delight he took in running up and down every corridor he could find, combined with his joy at smarting off to every adult in his general vicinity had earned him a – undeserved, in Veronica’s opinion – reputation as a terror.

She watched him with a slight smile on her face as his stuffed fox snuck in and stole away the Ferrari while the velociraptor and the police car were still obliviously fighting, if the crashing noises he was making were any indication. “Red always wins,” she commented.

He looked up at her in surprise, having been completely absorbed in his own little word. “Duh!”

She laughed. Ah, the confidence of youth… “It’s time for bed,” she pointed out.

He pouted. Beautifully, too. Lower lip stuck out, head tilted perfectly to one side. She couldn’t help but smile to herself every time he did that: If Lilly was Duncan’s, then Michael was most certainly _hers_. Sometimes a little too much…

  
 _“Tell me the truth, Veronica!” Duncan grabbed her arm angrily._

  
“But I don’t wanna!”

His plaintive cry snapped her from the unpleasant memory, and she shook her head. “Bedtime,” she insisted sternly.

He looked down at Red and the ferrari and pondered for a moment. “Tell me a story?”

She laughed. “Okay, I’ll tell you a story. Now, bedtime.”

“About Uncle Logan?” She’d gotten his curiosity up, and now he willingly followed after her right into his room. Really, he wasn’t ‘difficult’; she just worked with him, not against him. Veronica’s blood _still_ boiled at the memory of Celeste calling him that.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…” Exploits from times long past had seemed harmless enough once. But now that Logan had been there… Well, there were some uglinesses that didn’t need to be dredged up again…

  
 _“You’re being ridiculous. I told you the truth!”_

  
“Is Uncle Logan coming back?” Michael asked hopefully. “Tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. Probably not.”

Michael looked disappointed and clutched Red tighter to his chest as she tucked him in. “Why doesn’t he ever come over?”

Veronica gulped…

  
 _“Promise me that he’s **my** son!”_

  
“Daddy and Uncle Logan don’t get along so well,” Veronica answered. _Uncle Logan and I don’t get along so well, either…_

“Why?”

  
 _“Of course, he’s yours. Who else—?”_

 _“You know who…”_

  
Veronica shook her head. “Something silly.”

Michael didn’t like that answer. “Why?”

  
 _“That’s ridiculous! I’ve never—”_

 _“I know he was at the charity fundraiser that year. And Michael sure didn’t get that mouth from **me**.”_

  
“You know how you and Tommy Enbom just don’t get along?” Veronica asked.

“Yeah…”

“It’s like that.”

  
 _“Duncan, I swear. Logan and I have never… Not once. And I didn’t even see him that night.”_

 _A moment’s pause. “Sorry, babe. You’re probably right. I mean… I’m just overworked. And, hell, Michael probably just gets it from Lilly.”_

 _“Probably…”_

  
“Oh.” Michael pouted.

“Yeah,” Veronica agreed.

“But he’s real!” Michael’s expression brightened again. “He’s really real!”

Veronica laughed. “Of course he is. I told you, didn’t I? I showed you the pictures.”

Michael made a face. “He looks way different than the pictures.”

“Well, that _was_ fifteen years ago. He looks older now.” _Better, too._ She clamped down on _that_ little voice right then.

“But he’s really real!” Michael seemed fixated on this point, like he’d been introduced to Santa Claus in person.

And Veronica hadn’t really thought about it before, but maybe the Lilly and Logan of her old stories had taken out mythic qualities, a life and world so distant from her own that they might as well have come from a storybook. It was strange to think of it now, but _she_ had almost forgotten just how solid Logan was, as well. The way his lips curved devilishly just before he was about to say something really biting, the way his fingers were constantly in motion, tapping out rhythms that only he could hear… “He’s really real,” she whispered, a hint of realization in her voice. “Really real…”

***

Two days later, Veronica came home to find Michael curled up in bed, and Serafina in near hysterics. She gathered enough from Serafina’s broken English to know that she hadn’t seen anything, just come home to tears and bruises. Carefully, but with boiling fury inside, Veronica had unfolded Michael from where he was wrapped around the pillow. The five finger-shaped bruises around his arm were deep, already setting into an ugly blue color.

Michael sniffed but quieted as she carefully took pictures, holding a ruler up to his arm as she did so. _I’ve got your number, bitch…_

“It _does_ make it better,” Michael announced in awe.

Veronica nodded slowly. “Who did this?” she asked softly.

“Tommy and I got in a fight.”

Tommy Enbom’s whole hands were about the size of _one_ of the fingers on his arm.

Veronica ground her teeth. What was it Logan had said? Take the kids and run? She knew she should have listened to him…


	4. Chapter 4

Logan took a deep, steadying breath and gazed aimlessly off into the distance. The flashing neon lights advertising the ‘West Beach Inn’ flashed red and blue against the windshield, creating eerie, discolored bursts of luminescence against the black of the night. And, no matter how hard he tried to wrap his mind around the concept, he still couldn’t fully process it:

 _She did it. She finally did it…_

Veronica had finally left Duncan, a decade too late and a pre-nup short. It felt like his pulse was pounding painfully in his ears every time he thought about it. And even he wasn’t sure what he felt in response. He’d fantasized about something like this for so long, deep whispers in the dark of his bedroom that she’d leave Duncan and come back to him some day. But that had been so many years ago, and he hadn’t woken up in a sweat, with Veronica’s name on his lips and his sheets stained with come, in ages. Until she’d come to him that day in his office, that is.

And a part of him loathed himself for even daring to dream that this could happen. But now, it _had_ , and some part of him that had never gotten over her fully couldn’t help but hope…

He hated her more in that moment than he thought he ever had in all his life. She shouldn’t be able to make him _feel_ at all anymore, dammit. And her escape shouldn’t feel like his second chance, like maybe this time everything would work out…

Happy endings didn’t exist.

If he just repeated that to himself often enough, then he could go back to his old life and never think about Veronica again. It seemed like a good plan. Except for that whole pesky problem where he’d agreed to help her…

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he finally got out of his car and jogged up the steps to room 315.

“Let me guess,” she commented wryly when she opened the door, “you had to go powder your nose first?”

“I just wanted to look my girlish best,” he bit back with a little more acid than he intended. It was absurd, really, but for the first time in far too long he had to watch himself around her. Before, she’d done more than her fair share to keeping him away. But now he was the only thing keeping him from…

“I still can’t tell who it is.” Veronica brandished the remote and gestured for him to follow her into the motel room.

Of course, it was all just an illusion. Just because Veronica no longer had ‘Property of Duncan Kane’ stamped across her forehead didn’t mean that she wouldn’t reject him just as harshly. But some part of him couldn’t help but believe that there was a difference… “Man or woman?”

“Listen.” Veronica hit play.

The frozen frame of the babysitter, Kyla, with Lilly in her lap began to move. “And what does the Big Bad Wolf say?” Kyla asked, reading from the storybook before them.

“The better ta smell you with!” Lilly clapped cheerfully.

Kyla laughed and turned the page.

Logan turned to look at Veronica and raised an eyebrow.

“Wait for it,” she requested softly.

“‘And what big teeth—’” Kyla’s reading was abruptly cut short by a crash in the distance and the sound of a screech. “What on—?” she began, before glancing back at Lilly.

“Kyla?” Lilly looked up at her with wide, frightened blue eyes.

In the background, the screaming continued – “You little monster!” – followed by another crash and then the sound of child’s tears in the distance. The kitchen, Logan would guess if he had to.

“Shh, shh.” Understanding seemed to have dawned in Kyla’s eyes, and she held Lilly to her. “It’s all right…”

“Kyla, get out here!” the voice yelled.

Kyla gulped and pressed a quick kiss to Lilly’s forehead. “Can you read without me for just a minute?” she requested softly.

Lilly nodded numbly.

“Good girl.” And then Kyla was off, leaving Lilly alone, arms curled up around her knees in a protective gesture.

Veronica hit pause.

“Fuck…” Logan breathed slowly.

“I copied the last video-feed before I left home,” Veronica clarified unnecessarily.

“Fuck…” Logan couldn’t seem to say anything else. He gulped once, and wet his lips. There was something not quite right about a thirty-year-old man being scared speechless by the mere reminder of his childhood.

“Logan?”

His name was soft, soothing, almost a caress. Hints of genuine concern and maybe even apology in those two syllables. He nodded slowly in response. “Is he all right?” he finally managed to ask, somewhat hoarsely.

“He’s fine,” Veronica insisted. “I took him out of there.”

“He’s fine…” Logan repeated, a soft, distant echo of her words.

Veronica bit her lip and contemplated him during the awkward pause. “Are _you_ all right?”

He almost didn’t hear her until her fingers lightly brushed his sleeve, and he could feel her warmth cut through his flesh like a fiery brand. It was both a shockingly wonderful and excruciatingly painful burst of sensation all at the same time. In any case, that quick brush of fingers was all he needed to snap out of it.

“That was a woman’s voice.” He gestured to the screen before absentmindedly scratching the back of his ear. “Looks like your sweetheart’s innocent, after all.”

“Yeah…” Veronica almost sounded resigned as she said it.

Well, hell, he was resigned too. Because _of course_ Duncan was innocent and got to be the shining boy with the perfect life and the perfect career and the perfect family and…

Veronica hit rewind and then play again.

“You little monster!” the voice shrieked again.

Veronica hit pause and cocked her head to one side. “I’ve been trying to identify it all day.”

“Celeste?”

Veronica shrugged. “You’d think I’d have her yell memorized by now.”

“Who else could it be?”

“Well…” Veronica crossed her arms over her chest as if she were chilled and took a seat on the motel bed. It wasn’t a bad room, really, not a tacky hole-in-the-wall, but nothing fancy either. Best Western with a local flavor. “I guess it’s not Kyla.” She offered him a playful smile.

And, of course, there was nothing else to do in a situation this horrific than to smile at it. He couldn’t refrain from a bubble of laughter in response. “And it looks like you can’t blame this one on me. Tough luck…”

She looked up at him sharply.

“Who else?” He cut her off before she could respond; he didn’t really want to know what she’d say to that.

“Seraphina…although she was frantic when I came home. If she was faking it…”

“What did Kyla say?” he cut to their blindingly-obvious prime witness.

Veronica bit her lip. “Kyla’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“She shoved Lilly at Seraphina as soon as she got home and took off. I had Clarence check her apartment, but most of her clothes were gone, and…”

“Whoever it is made her leave town.”

Veronica nodded numbly, staring down at her clenched hands. “I couldn’t stay… So I asked Clarence to get us out of there.”

Logan’s mouth set in a hard line. “You honestly think he won’t tell Duncan where you are if he asks?”

“Duncan won’t ask,” she insisted softly. “He doesn’t even know to look for us.”

“What do you mean?”

She let out a wry laugh. “He thinks we’re visiting Celeste’s parents in Aspen. He doesn’t know…”

“You didn’t leave him.” Realization and disappointment like nothing Logan had ever known settled through him, so that he almost couldn’t breathe, like the weight of the world was pressing down against his chest.

“I…” She trailed off, as if uncertain of what to say.

“Yeah, right.” He’d learned to recoil from punches frighteningly fast in his life. “Still hedging your bets so that your life can be heavenly bliss once more, just as soon as this is over,” he offered airily.

“If Duncan didn’t do anything—”

“Of _course_ , Duncan didn’t do anything!” he cut her off brightly. “He’s obviously the most perfect husband ever, and we’ll do our best to get you back to him ASAP.” He snatched the remote from her angrily and did a muted, frame-by-frame advance through the scene, as if that could tell him something. “You know, you might have thought to ask the family expert on making people disappear whether you were his only client this week.” He paused on a picture of Kyla’s frightened face.

“Clarence wouldn’t…”

He gave her a skeptical look.

“He’s a friend…” she continued to protest.

He managed to look even _less_ convinced.

“He’s loyal,” she finally insisted.

“To whom?”

She bit her lip.

“Really, Veronica,” he offered with a patronizing smile. “In the end, are _any_ of these people loyal to _you_?”

“Stop it,” she requested, still composed, but he could see her exterior cracking.

Hell, like he was giving up now. “Stop, what? Playing along with your little game of make-believe?”

“You have no right to judge!” she hissed back, cheeks flushing with anger, eyes shining with a spark that had almost been wholly absent until now.

“Judge?” he snorted. “No way. I’m still _way_ too young and pretty for those robes. But that doesn’t mean I have to help feed your little delusions.”

“‘Little delusions’?” she shook her head in disbelief. “God, have you always been such a condescending bastard?”

“And have you always been this completely blind and pig-headed?” he shouted back.

“Oh, yes,” she bit back sarcastically. “Since you know me _sooo_ well, why don’t you tell me all about it? C’mon, Logan, just say it. I’m amazed you’ve held it in for this long…”

“You’re fucking miserable!” he exclaimed in frustration, and – damn – it _did_ feel good to finally say it. “And you’re trying to pretend you’re not.”

“Of _course_ , I’m miserable!” she snapped right back. “Do you _possibly_ think I couldn’t have noticed this?”

He froze at that, wide-eyed in disbelief. “Veronica…?” he asked in almost a whisper, and amidst their yelling, that was even more powerful than a shout.

She rubbed at her eyes in frustration, hoping desperately that her mascara wasn’t running. “I know, okay?” she offered, voice ragged. “But I did what I had to do, and it’s not perfect but…” She swiped angrily at her tears. “I didn’t have any other choice.”

Logan gulped and watched her close in on herself, watched her body shake slightly at whatever remembered pain flitted through her consciousness, and there was some part of him that just couldn’t let her suffer alone. “Veronica?” He sat on the side of the bed and carefully, hesitantly reached out to rest his hand against the small of her back comfortingly. “What happened?”

She tensed for a moment at the sudden, heated physical contact between them, but then her body relaxed and fell into his touch. And, when she looked up, he saw something that he’d never imagined he’d see in her eyes while she looked at him ever again. God, how hard must she have struggled to hide all that raw _desire_ from him – and herself – all this time? How hard was she still struggling, if the fear he saw in her face at finally admitting that desire was any indication?

“I got pregnant.”

It was so simple, such a _normal_ , every-day dilemma, that for a moment he couldn’t process its meaning.

“I got pregnant, and Duncan was the only one there, and I had no choice,” she clarified when his uncomprehending look lasted for too long. “What else was I supposed to do? I had no money, and I had _no one_ else in my life, and… How could I do that to Michael? Make him grow up in a home like that, when he could have _everything_?”

“Right now Option A’s not looking like such a bad idea…” Logan sighed.

“No,” Veronica agreed. “Option A has never looked like a bad idea…”

“Then, _why_?” he asked, genuinely curious. Because, to tell the truth, this had been a mystery that had been baffling him for ages.

“Because I _had_ to stick by my promises and see everything through. That’s what adults do. That’s what _good people_ do…”

And the unspoken accusation hung all too clearly between them. _That’s what my mother didn’t do._ He didn’t respond, because a part of him agreed with her.

“And I may have learned that too late for me, but it’s going to be different with Michael and Lilly. They’re not going to make the same mistakes I did.” Veronica sounded so convinced of this that he really didn’t know what to say.

Except… “‘Too late’?” he repeated.

She laughed wryly. “Oh, c’mon, like you haven’t wanted to kill me for not learning my lesson in loyalty a few years earlier…” she retorted.

He blinked in surprise at that. “You think I still blame you for dumping me when we were seventeen?” he retorted incredulously.

“Don’t you?”

And the sad thing was that he _did_. That little voice in the back of his head was so very tempted to say ‘See? You never should have broken up with me in the first place!’ God, she was turning him back into that stupid kid, but – hey – at least he seemed to be turning her back into her stupid kid self too, so it all worked out nicely.

“I knew it,” she chuckled slightly to herself. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve thought about it _way_ too much over the years. ‘If only I hadn’t gone back to Duncan…’ It’s this whole nightly ritual, actually.”

“You could leave him.”

“I _can’t_.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know how to live without him anymore,” she sighed. “You don’t know what it’s like. I have all these _responsibilities_ that I never even asked for. To the children, and to Duncan’s career, and… I just…can’t,” she finally finished helplessly, studying her hands in her lap studiously.

“Fuck Duncan’s career,” he retorted with a snort.

“You have _no_ idea.” She let out an incredulous laugh. “Anne’s got this huge billboard in the basement for when Duncan runs for president, with all the things that might be used against him, and…” She let out a deep breath. “You wouldn’t _believe_ how many times I’m on that list. That’s all these people see me as, really: A political liability.”

“Yeah, well, they’re pretty much idiots,” Logan concluded. “I still have no idea why you put up with them.”

“I…” she sighed. “I didn’t plan to.”

“Right.”

She let out a groan of despair. “God, I shouldn’t have told you that. _Any_ of that. You can’t…” She bit her lip and looked at him seriously. “You can’t tell anyone. Duncan can _never_ know…”

“What, that you only married him because he knocked you up, and that you hate your life?” he retorted sardonically. “Isn’t that – I don’t know – something he _should_ know? He’s your husband, for crying out loud!”

“We’re not like that,” she insisted. “He can’t know. Promise me, Logan.”

“I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t going to help you with any of your delusions.”

She gestured around her with an incredulous expression on her face, indicating everything she’d just said. “ _Clearly_ not deluded. And, really, you’re one to talk.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows rose in perfect time with his seemingly-innocently inquiry.

She snorted. “I mean, come on: _Lester_? Do you really think you can banish _him_ that easily?”

He just smiled at her, that seemingly-sweet, dangerous smile of his. “Oh, do tell,” he offered lightly.

“You’re still _terrified_ of him,” she accused. “It’s half of why you’re helping me, why you’re doing _anything_ that you do, right? But, no matter how hard you try, you still can’t escape him, can you? You still can’t shake the notion that, deep inside,” she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “you’re Just. Like. Him.” And she was guessing, of course, but it wasn’t hard, really – it had never been hard with Logan – and, hell, like she was going to leave herself vulnerable to him without finding _some_ way of fighting back. Some insanity had possessed her to trust him with secrets she’d kept bottled inside for far too long, and for that he had to pay his own emotional price.

He jerked back from her, eyes flashing with barely contained fury. All the compassion that had been in him only a few moments ago was gone now, and she reveled in it, even as a part of her panged at the loss of _her_ Logan once again…

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed.

“I think I do,” she shot back. “It’s not that difficult. Poor little Logan _still_ hasn’t gotten over it all. No wonder you’re still playing up the spoiled, rich playboy act.”

“Jealous?” he inquired with an evil smirk.

She let out a disbelieving laugh. “I know _everything_ you’re capable of,” she leaned in, eyes narrowed in threat.

“Do you?” His own smile was just as vicious, and he didn’t back down in the slightest.

In fact, slowly Veronica became aware of just how close they were, how the air around them seemed to crackle and pulse with potential energy. And, heaven help her, but she _did_ know everything he was capable of, every dark little secret, and she _still_ wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life…

Logan’s expression changed then, all the bottled up passion still there in his dark eyes for all the world to see, but something else slipped in, something soft and hopeful, and he was moving closer, and…

“Mommy, mommy?”

Veronica breathed a sigh of relief when the door creaked open and Michael’s head peered into her motel room. That kid had to have the best timing in the world. “Yes, sweetie?” She pulled herself away from Logan, as the seemingly magnetic attraction that had just been between them faded to nothing.

“I heard yelling.” Michael’s eyes were wide and confused as he glanced back and forth between the two of them, his five-year-old mind able to process that something was very wrong even if he couldn’t possibly know what. “And crying…”

“It’s all right,” Veronica promised, getting up off of the bed and catching him up in her arms. “Everything will be just fine. Uncle Logan and I were just having a little disagreement.”

Michael didn’t look convinced, blue eyes wide and agitated, but he relaxed when Veronica kissed him on the forehead and Logan offered him a completely innocent smile.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to bed,” Veronica offered soothingly, nudging the door between their rooms open further and settling him back into bed beside Lilly. Her daughter had the most beatific smile on her face in sleep, like none of the world’s troubles could ever touch her. Veronica just wished that she could stay like that forever…

Michael must’ve been sleepier than he let on, because after only a few minutes of stroking his hair, he was back to sleep, and even now – in only a few years – the complete innocence that surrounded Lilly in sleep couldn’t fully permeate his countenance. Veronica bit her lip and tried not to cry, because she knew better than anyone that perfection never lasted…

When she finally got up to return to her room, she found Logan standing in the doorway, forehead resting against the doorframe, watching her. She couldn’t make out his expression, with her back-lit room behind him, but his pose was so natural, fluid and relaxed, and his body looked so beautiful, even covered by the suit he wore. _He_ was achingly perfect just then, and he didn’t even realize it.

“You’re amazing with them,” he whispered as she pushed past him and closed the door to the children’s temporary room behind her.

She gulped and just nodded, wanting nothing more in that moment than to forget any good qualities he’d ever had. “Can you do anything with the tapes?” she finally asked, arms crossed over her stomach as she sat back down on the bed and stared at the muted television screen.

“If you have voice recordings of our usual suspects?” he ventured.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a disk, complete with neat little labeled files: _Celeste. Seraphina. Terry. Anne. Denise._ The last was probably just spite, she knew, but no woman should look at another woman’s husband the way Denise looked at Duncan. And a part of her couldn’t help but find glee in how much it would fuck up Duncan’s political aspirations to have another Senator’s daughter accused of such a crime.

Logan took the disk from her and studied her neat penmanship of the voices she’d selected for comparison. “I don’t know what I’ll be able to do,” he warned her, taking his copy of the abuse video as well. “But I’ll let you know.”

She nodded slowly, resignedly, composed again now after her uncharacteristic lapse earlier. “We appreciate it,” she offered magnanimously.

His eyes narrowed, because he had to know that was the tone she’d used at countless political functions. _We, me and Duncan…_ “I’m sure you do,” he offered carefully, guardedly.

“I’ll keep you apprised of the situation.” She rose and opened the door for him, a clear dismissal.

His expression was bitter and cold as he left. And a part of her ached for him then, because she could remember a time so long ago when he’d worn his heart on his sleeve no matter how many times it had been crushed. In the end, it seemed to have been one too many. “You do that,” he offered, and left.

Veronica shut the door behind him and immediately collapsed against its solid weight, sinking slowly to the carpet. Dammit, but she didn’t need this right now. For so long she’d fought against fantasies of what might have been. And, honestly, she’d made the right choice at the time. How was she ever supposed to know that Logan would straighten his life out? How was she supposed to know that, under it all, Duncan was nothing more than the plan his father had outlined for him?

And how on earth was it possible that she’d made all the right choices at all the right times, yet it had still turned out so completely and utterly _wrong_?

She hadn’t meant for any of this to come out, ever. But she’d already revealed too much to Logan that evening, and kept too much from him too. Now, though, she could let it all out for the first and last time. For one moment she could be free and wish that, as a kid, she’d made the stupid choices when she’d needed to.

That was the problem with always being right. It had left her with nothing but regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For details why this fic will never be finished, go [here](http://kantayra.livejournal.com/383064.html).


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